


Rät

by poisonedlace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alphonse sill looks like the big brother, BAMF Roy Mustang, Canon-Typical Violence, Ed loves Riza and thanks her for all the shit he puts her through, Edward Elric Keeps Alchemy, Edward Elric Swears, I don't know how to tag this without spoilers tbh, Kinda, M/M, Protective Riza Hawkeye, Restored Alphonse Elric, ed uses a gun, hohenheim is a dick but also like not, me bullshitting alchemy science words, violence tag specifically about Xerxes though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonedlace/pseuds/poisonedlace
Summary: Edward Elric loses his alchemy at sixteen years old. At nineteen, he shows up to insult his former commanding officer. What could possibly go wrong?AKA The one where Ed doesn't wallow for too long about his alchemy and helps people even without it.Based on Rät by Penelope Scott
Relationships: Edward Elric & Riza Hawkeye, Edward Elric & Team Mustang, Edward Elric/Ling Yao (implied), Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang
Comments: 12
Kudos: 244
Collections: A-Z Alternative Music Fics 2020





	Rät

**Author's Note:**

> This is like two weeks worth of writing, I hope y'all like it. I haven't read the series in,, a long time, so forgive anything non-canon. Also: Blatant overuse of italics because I can.

Edward Elric is sixteen years old and he saved Amestris. It’s a headline he sees everywhere for months after the Promised Day. Edward Elric saved Amestris and gave up the one thing that made him useful to to do it.

He spends a whole month wallowing before Al—alive, whole, and breathing—kicks him out of the apartment in Central they’ve been renting so that Al can be near good doctors in case something happens. It hasn’t yet, but Ed’s given everything to keep his brother alive, and he’s not about to let that change.

He spends five minutes staring incredulously at the door, a black jacket sliding slowly off of his head where Al had thrown it. It’s his jacket, not Al’s, they both grew a lot after Truth gave them Al’s body and Ed’s arm, but Al’s always been thinner, even Before. Though, that seems ready to change as Al heals and grows, shoulders hinting at a broadness Ed’s would never reach.

After five minutes he gets his shit together and leaves. He walks through Central City, and even though his name and face were everywhere for a month, not a single person recognizes Ed. He’s grateful for it, really, did everything he could to help it along. He doesn’t braid his hair anymore, keeps it in a ponytail not unlike his dad’s, never wears that gaudy red coat, doesn’t need to since he’s not trying to draw attention away from Al anymore.

He winds up at a library, because he always does, and instinctively he heads for the alchemy section. By the time he realizes, he’s not going to just _leave_ , so he pulls down some theory books and gets to work.

Al always liked learning from Ed’s lectures anyways. Years spent learning alchemy together, side by side, made sure they knew the best ways for them to understand and retain information meant for people way older than them. Ed prefers books, prefers seeing things with his own eyes, visualizing it for himself. Al always liked listening to Ed explain theoretical physics like it was a bedtime story.

It’s a couple of hours before Ed does anything but pour over books on a science he can’t use, on a part of himself he thinks he’ll never get back.

Heavy boots—military, obviously, he’s heard it enough times—thud as quietly as possible through the aisles, stopping just beside where Ed’s curled up on the floor in front of a bookshelf with five books spread beside him. He’d sit at a table but he got distracted and his leg port hurts and really, he just doesn’t _want_ to move.

“You do realize, Fullmetal, that there are better places to do this,” Colonel Roy Mustang says quietly. His tone is gentle, a far cry from the commands he snapped the same way he created fire, back when Edward was still _Fullmetal_.

“Y’know, you can’t really keep calling me that, _Colonel_.”

Ed manages to keep the pain from his port out of his voice, and the sentence is tinged with his usual vitriol, too, so he takes it as a win. He doesn’t feel a lot of anger anymore, never really did, but he has a reputation to uphold of being the loud one, the mean one, the older, the _protector_ , so he pulls himself together enough to pull up the old façade.

Roy laughs, it’s quiet, because of the setting, but it’s _real_ , and if Ed internally rejoices at the smile that graces the man’s tired face, that’s his business. He turns his attention back to his book.

“Dog of the military or not, _Ed_ , you’ll always be Fullmetal to me.”

Ed’s head immediately starts spinning with the implications of that, but he scoffs aloud and flips him off with his right hand, still stuck in the novelty of having two flesh arms.

“It’s rude not to look at people when you talk to them, you know.”

Ed rolls his eyes, dramatically, and then meets the Colonel’s. Roy is as he always is, tall, straight-backed, and dignified, even standing over his sixteen-year-old former subordinate-slash-savior-of-the-world.

But beyond that, the man looks _tired_. A bone deep exhaustion that Ed knows all too well, hidden behind the mask of a politician. It shows, though, to anyone who knows what to look for. It hides in the bags under his eyes that have only become worse in the month since the Promised Day, the scowl lines forming on his face, the ragged edges of his nails, picked at out of stress.

The instinct to return that smile to Roy’s face wins, and a sarcastic question finds its way off of his tongue without any conscious thought, “To clarify, did you mean ‘better place’ as in the desk that I’d have to walk around twelve bookshelves to find or my apartment which has these same books?”

The grin reappears, and if Ed wasn’t in front of him and trying to keep his persona, he’d probably have fist-bumped the air.

“Either-or, I suppose. Why are you here if the books are at your place?” Roy asks, dropping down to sit beside Ed’s pile of books. Not that he had a lot of choice, he was fresh out of luck if he wanted to get through the aisle without stepping on Ed or a book. His automail leg was stretched between the shelves, and the books were strewn around.

Ed stifles a laugh. “Al kicked me out. He wanted me to stop moping about my alchemy. It didn’t quite work but I appreciate the effort. I could ask the same of you, though.”

Roy picks up a book, _The Shifting of the Earth_ , by one R. Mann. Ed had gone on a particularly spectacular rant about Mann’s theories in Mustang’s office after about a year of working for him, after Al had—purposefully, as he later admitted to Riza—mentioned they could try applying one of Mann’s theories.

Ed had _raged_ , and while no one but Roy, Al, and Riza had understood, they all agreed that Ed probably knew more than the author did, and that they would never speak of it again.

“I got a call from a very concerned Breda when he saw you storm into this library looking particularly disheartened. I assume he was worried about property damage.”

Ed’s grin freezes and fades slightly. He drops his eyes to the books around him, the two flesh and blood hands he has now. “He shouldn’t. Don’t have much to break with, these days.”

Roy freezes, too, the smile slipping off of his face. “Fullmetal I-“

Ed never has been good with people. “It’s fine, _Colonel_. I should go. Kicked out or not, I’m sure Al is going to worry if I’m gone for much longer.”

He gathers his books and is up and gone before Roy can figure out what he wants to say.

Edward Elric saved Amestris, and gave up a part of himself to do it. But somehow, when he leaves the country to travel, he doesn’t look back.

Edward Elric is now nineteen years old, he’s been through Creta, the ruins and rebuilding of Ishval, stayed in Xing, stood beside the Emperor himself—and he pretends he doesn’t hear the whispers about him and Greed-Ling, the saviors of Amestris and the Yao clan, side-by-side—learned the theories behind all types of different alchemy studies, and he stands taller and stronger than he ever has.

Alphonse doesn’t travel with him, anymore. He stays in Resembool with Winry and sometimes makes the journey to Xing to study with Mei.

Ed does not speak to his old team. Letters pile up in Resembool and are promptly dropped into an old box. Phone calls are ignored.

Then an announcement is sent out.

ROY MUSTANG, HERO OF ISHVAL, CLIMBING THE RANKS.

It’s slapped on every newspaper, said with amazement in every radio show. Roy Mustang, supposed leader of the coup against Bradley, a man who exposed what Ishval really was, and did his best to help rebuild what he and his peers had destroyed.

The public was intrigued. None could really deny the good he did with Bradley removed, the transparency he put into place of all military dealings. But many were still angry at his past, though just as many were happy with his redemption.

Not a week before Roy’s promotion party, rumors begin flying. A man who people think might be the former Fullmetal Alchemist was seen leaving the train station.

Roy signs paper after paper, locked in his office, but he can’t help waiting for a metal foot through his door. The rumors couldn’t possibly be true, not after three years of silence from Ed, but hope is a stupid, finicky thing, and he can’t help but wish he’d appear in the doorway.

He’s distracted, and Riza knows it, so she sends him out the door with two files and a request to not come back until, quote, “You get your head on straight”.

He ends up at a café not far from the office, a nice one he buys coffee from every Friday for the team. The baristas all know him by name—some had flirted with him, but he shut them all down gently, too worried about his eventual ascension to think about it—and after confirming the usual, he settles in to wait for a couple of minutes. It’s busy, it always is, something about the kind workers and the gentle aesthetic draws people in.

The door opens, a quiet bell ringing above the din of people, and out of habit Roy looks up to give the newcomer a once-over.

He’s greeted with gold hair tucked in an intricate half-updo that clearly was not the work of the man beneath it, and gold eyes filled with the fire he saw in a boy from Resembool. Except, his face is more open, more kind, and even the fire is gentler, more like the soulfire of the suit of armor he once was than the fire of a boy who’d seen Hell and willingly walked back into it.

“Al,” Roy greets. He’s seen the boy a couple of times since his body was restored, but certainly not recently.

Now that he noticed the differences, it’s easy to tell that this was the younger Elric. His face was rounder, shoulders ever-so-slightly broader. Always slightly bigger than his older brother. If Ed was a close copy of his father, Al seemed to have gotten plenty of traits from his mother, too.

“General.” Al returns. His voice was quiet, calm, but always excited.

“What brings you back to Central? Last I heard you’d settled into Resembool.”

Al levels him with an unimpressed look to rival both his grandmother’s and teacher’s. People always assumed Ed was the scary one, but Al was always more dangerous.

They both know it’s a thin excuse for conversation, but after a minute of unimpressed staring, Al responds, “I heard you were becoming a general. Friends come to see friends meet their goals, Colonel.”

Another moment passes before they burst out laughing.

“You’re right, stupid question. What about Ms. Rockbell? Is she here as well?” Roy likes Winry, and they occasionally exchange letters lamenting Ed’s lack of communication.

Al picks up his coffee from where it’s been set on the counter, and smiles, “Yes, she’s in visiting with Mrs. Hughes and Elicia. We’re staying with them for the time being.”

Roy nods, noticing that Al hadn’t said anything about Ed.

 _Probably on purpose._ The small voice in his head says. It’s probably right, for different reasons. Al never has been one to let Roy off easy.

So he steels himself and asks, “Have you heard from Ed?”

Al’s face saddens, a little bit. “His last letter was before the announcement, but last I heard he was back in Ishval helping the rebuilding efforts.”

Roy starts in surprise. “He was in Ishval?”

“Yeah. Brother always liked helping, he’s been back a couple of times since that first big effort.” Al says, his eyes almost literally shimmering with pride.

“I didn’t- I’ve been in Ishval, too. I didn’t know he was-“

Al dims again, his enthusiasm disappearing slightly. “On purpose. It’s awful, but Brother _has_ been avoiding you all. He refused to even come see Mrs. Hughes. I think the only one in Amestris aside from the Rockbells, Teacher, and I who’s even heard from him is Riza.”

Roy startles again, although not physically this time, “Oh, he’s spoken to Hawkeye?”

“’Spoken’ is a rather strong word, sir. I think he sent a gift. You’ll have to ask her directly, though, since I never saw it. I think Ling helped him get it.”

Roy’s heart twists painfully at the mention of Ed and the Xingese Emperor, but he takes the emotion and shoves it into a tiny box labeled ‘Ed’ in his mind. Three years of radio silence gave him good practice.

They talk for a little longer, then part ways, and Roy heads home.

It begins to rain directly after Roy gets home, and at exactly six, he hears someone cursing up a storm outside his door.

The bell rings loudly, and he opens it to find Edward Elric, just as vibrant than the last time they saw each other, more so really, despite the water dripping off of Ed from the rain. He’s putting pressure on his leg port, and Roy remembers being told that rain makes automail ports hurt.

“Fullmetal?” Roy asks, standing awkwardly.

Ed scoffs, “I thought I told you to stop calling me that, _General_ Bastard. Can I come in?”

Roy steps aside awkwardly, and Ed graciously wrings his hair and clothes out before stepping inside. Roy fetches a towel, handing it to Ed. He’d gotten plenty taller, not quite taller than Roy, who stands at a comfortable six-feet-tall, but close to the same.

“I thought you were still in Ishval.” Roy says. His tone is careful, flat. It has to be, with the vibrant man in front of him.

Ed shrugs, squishing his hair through the towel, trying to stop the dripping. “I was, until I heard the announcement. I owe you money, don’t I?”

Roy huffs a laugh, remembering the promise they’d made. “Well, that’s kind of you. It would’ve been nice to be warned first, though.”

Ed drops into that silence, the one he goes in when he feels bad or angry or guilty about something and won’t—can’t, through a combination of bullheaded stubbornness, a need to protect his brother, and the inability to understand that his feelings _matter, goddamnit_ —say anything, the silence Roy finds means he’s going to run.

“I’m sorry.” And that of all things is what it takes to bring Roy to a screeching halt. Edward Elric, apologizing and _meaning it_.

Roy composes himself quickly, has to if he wants to keep Ed from asking questions, and shrugs it off with a wave of his hand and a pile of dry clothes. Ed’s eyebrow raises, a question of why he doesn’t do his usual drama routine of snapping away the water, but while Ed’s always been a contrary fucker, he’s never poked too hard at the things that hurt.

Ed changes in the bathroom, and Roy makes coffee for them.

“Why are you really here, Fullmetal?” Roy asks, while his stupidly fancy coffee machine finishes brewing the pot. “If you wanted to just pay me back, you would’ve burst into my office and flung the money at my face.”

Ed laughs, a real laugh, bright and happy and _vibrant_ in a way only Ed could be, a way he _wasn’t_ , before. “That is a fair observation. To be honest? Al kicked me out, _again_ , and said I could only come back if I talked to you. Since I didn’t know if Breda would be near the Central Library in this weather, I begged your address off of the Lieutenant and decided to show up.”

Roy makes a mental note to ask Riza about that.

“Actually, speaking of Hawkeye, I hear she’s the only one you’ve communicated with since you left.”

Ed curses Al under his breath, but it’s halfhearted, like his anger always is with his brother. Roy pours them some coffee, his in a mug that says _World’s Best Uncle_ , from Elicia, and Ed’s in a plain black one.

“I didn’t really communicate with her. I sent her a gift from Xing,” Ed explains, stirring some sugar into the liquid. “Two things, really, but only one was _from_ Xing. I sent back her gun, one she gave me after the Promised Day, when she realized I didn’t have alchemy, and a set of hair sticks with hawks carved into the ends.”

Roy’s familiar with the sticks, Riza had taken to wearing them nearly every day, crisscrossing through her usual hairstyle. It had surprised the whole team, since Riza rarely wore anything that wasn’t military-issued when she was in uniform, and it was made all the more impressive by the sapphires in each eye, which Riza would never have gotten for herself. He tells Ed as much, and his eyes light up.

“I’m glad she liked them. Ling told me some stories about women in the Xingese court wearing sharpened hair sticks as a subtle way to protect themselves and it reminded me of her.” Ed fidgeted with the handle on his mug. “I wanted to thank her for everything she’d done, and since I had to send her gun back anyway, I asked Ling if he could have them made the same way.”

“She adores them. I’m pretty sure if Olivier ever wore her hair up, she’d have insisted you get her a pair,” Roy laughs.

Ed hums in mock thoughtfulness. “Maybe bears, for her.”

“Maybe bears.” Roy agrees. “Why did you return the gun?”

Ed smiles softly. “Riza gave me one before the Promised Day, as she did when Al, Ling, and I were fighting Gluttony. I think if I still had my alchemy and worked for you it would’ve been a tradition. As it is, though, people in Xing don’t use guns. Like, ever. To have one is basically to ignore all kinds of social decorum. Ling could’ve made people shut up about it, but he’s dealing with plenty of things as the Emperor so I just sent it back.”

The rest of the night passes similarly, stupid, lighthearted conversation, and if Ed doesn’t head back to his apartment, if Ed falls asleep on Roy’s couch, pressed up against his side, then no one really needed to know.

Ed rejoins the team, after Roy’s promotion. He’s not an alchemist anymore, but he knows Cretan, and Aerugan, and Xingese, and is passable in Drachman, even knows more bits of Ishvalan and even the dead language of Xerxes than anyone else, and the team needs a translator now, so he offers the job offhandedly to Ed, and he accepts it with a passion Roy hasn’t seen in _three years_.

It’s been a month and Ed doesn’t seem very inclined to stop dropping by Roy’s house every night, making him eat real food and appropriating his library.

Ed fits in scarily well in the office, even starts wearing the blues after Riza calls him out a couple of times, and none of them are prepared for the day _Edward Elric_ walks in the door wearing the army-regulation uniform, his hair pinned back in a bun not dissimilar to Riza’s own, even going so far as to match the hair sticks, though he has a wider assortment of them.

He carries a gun, now, and when Roy asks Riza about it, she smiles her scariest smile, and Roy can only assume she’s the one who gave it to him. It’s a standard military issue gun, but there’s a flamel carefully carved into the handle.

Three months in, and Roy has to hold a press conference. There’s been kidnappings, then the kidnapped people started turning up charred and burnt, and he holds a press conference to assure the public there’s nothing to worry about.

Team Mustang has a new field alchemist, a newbie just out of the exam, over twice the age Ed was and yet somehow he seems to have half the knowledge.

Ed had laughed so hard he fell over when the kid had bowed low, stammering out an introduction.

“Michael Haman, right? I heard you were talented, Armstrong was impressed with your performance at the exam. You transmuted a mechanical lion, right? Super detailed.” Ed says, genuine respect in his voice.

Roy looks surprised, which startles another laugh out of Ed as Haman watches with dawning horror.

“I still hold the record for highest score on the exam, Mustang. I like to make sure it stays that way.”

Once Haman stops stumbling every time Ed or Roy even enter a room with him in it, he and Ed get on like a house on fire, which means the rest of the team likes him too. It turns out that Haman has a wicked sharp sense of humor, not unlike Ed’s own.

Three months in, Ed bursts dramatically into Roy’s office, shouting, “You have to fire him! He thinks Mann’s theory on inversely proportional energy flow in unfixed loops has a practical application!”

Roy just sighs, glancing up from his paperwork. “And you don’t?”

“Of course not!” Ed shrieks, looking extremely offended. “Unfixed loops as a whole are wildly unstable and there’s no way in hell you’d be able to apply inverse energy flow into one in anything less than a lab setting!”

“What if you were prepared beforehand?” Roy asks, simply because he likes seeing Ed, and he likes knowing that Ed is happy.

Ed scoffs. “Says you, Mr. I-only-use-one-array. It’s impossible to be prepared for unfixed loops regardless, seeing as they’re more than a little unpredictable in the best situations, and to add non-uniform energy flow? You’d have to be insane.”

Ed drops onto the couch, flipping through a folder of what seems to be Cretan translations on first glance. “I’m gonna work in here for a bit. Haman’s harping is giving me a headache, and it’s going to rain soon.”

Roy hums in acknowledgement, turning back to his paperwork.

An hour later, he breaks the silence, remembering, “I have a first-edition copy of one of Mann’s books in my library that I think you’d be interested in.”

Ed raises an eyebrow, “You do remember what I think of Mann, right? Why in the hell would I want a first-edition?”

“Because it has annotations by a Xerxian alchemist whose name was entirely wiped out of it.” Roy turns back to his paperwork, basking in the awed silence.

“You- Why the hell would you not _lead with that_ , Bastard?” Ed asks, slamming his folder shut. “Wait here.”

He dashes out, handing the folder to Hawkeye, speaking quietly for a moment. Roy watches in interest as Riza laughs and Ed’s face lights up.

He walks back in, the heaviness in his left boot a stark reminder of what the man in front of him had accomplished. Roy resolves to take his theories more seriously.

“You, General, just got yourself the rest of the day off. Riza says you worked hard today. Also I think she knows that if I don’t get my hands on those annotations Al would kill me, and she’d lose her best translator.”

The sky is dark, but it’s winter, so it doesn’t mean much except that when Ed and Roy step out of the military building—Only Roy still in his uniform, Ed insisted that he wouldn’t wear the butt-cape out of the office, so he’s in jeans, a t-shirt, and a nice jacket that might have actually been bought—the air is brisk, and needles any exposed skin.

The walk is short and quiet, but it’s nice. Ed silently acknowledges that now that he isn’t pretending to hate Roy’s guts, he actually does enjoy the man’s company, which is a total surprise seeing as Ed had shoved any feelings about Roy into an ironed-lined box three years ago.

Roy’s house is small for a General’s pay, but there’s still a whole room dedicated to books, and he searches for a moment before handing Ed an old manuscript.

“Do try not to destroy that, it’s actually very interesting,” Roy says dramatically. Ed rolls his eyes, dropping his coat on the back of one of the chairs and curling up to read.

Roy lights a fire, deeply aware of what the cold does to automail. Ed’s good at pretending, he knows that well, but he’d like for Ed’s port to _not_ give him hypothermia.

He makes coffee, picking up a trashy romance novel his aunt had given him that he’s far too invested in, considering the content.

An hour later, Roy gets up to make food, and when he gets back, Ed hasn’t moved an inch, eyes scanning over the words scrawled in a scientist’s hand. The only reason Roy knew that the annotator was Xerxian was because all of the diagrams were based on Xerxian alchemy, and many of the annotations referenced Xerxian society. It was made stranger by the fact that the last Xerxian alchemist had died a hundred years prior to the writing of the manuscript.

His allowing of Ed to look it over served multiple purposes. One, he gets to make sure Ed actually eats something, since he seemed to have developed a habit of forgetting, even despite his insistence that Roy not do the same. Two, he gets to hear Ed’s opinions. Three, he wants to see if his theory proves solid.

He knew in the broadest terms about Van Hohenheim. He knows that he was Ed and Al’s father, that he’s where their Xerxian features come from, and that he was, in fact, present for the extinction of Xerxes, via the homunculus called Father. If Roy’s theory proved correct, the annotations would be by him.

He nudges Ed, noticing that he’s on the last page, leading him to the dining table, though Ed knows full well where it is.

The blond is deep in thought, Roy remembers the look on his face, but he eats.

“It’s my dad,” Ed says finally. “He wrote those notes. More annoyingly, he’s right about it. Fucking asshole. I’m sure you already know that, because you’re a weirdly perceptive asshole, just like Al.”

Roy laughs. “I had a guess. I wasn’t sure.”

Ed smiles, then fades, a little bit. “I don’t- I don’t think we- I ever told you about him. _It._ Not everything, anyways.”

Roy stills, allowing Ed to speak at his own pace.

“When I was a kid I thought he was just a dick, right? Some deadbeat asshole who never really cared about Al and me, who left because there was just more interesting things in the world than his family.” Ed starts, and Roy fights the urge to take his hand, to comfort him.

“I was mad, like always. I didn’t care about it for myself, but I thought Mom deserved better, and I knew Al deserved better. I thought that if he hadn’t left, Mom would’ve survived, and I still _do_ , but I know why it has to be this way. His office was always full of books, and he spent more time in there than with us.”

Ed fidgets for a minute, then continues.

“He spent something like 400 years alone because of that thing. 400 years of people and he fell in love with my mom, and that’s something I never really doubted, y’know. I don’t know if I knew subconsciously, or if it was just the way a child never doubts their parents are in love, but I never second-guessed that if he knew what would happen, he wouldn’t have left.

“Then I find out about the homunculi, the destruction of Xerxes, and then _he shows up_ at the Rockbell’s, acts like a cryptic asshole, takes a photo of all of us together, and leaves, and I nearly vowed to kill him myself. He’s the reason that thing exists, Roy. He’s the reason you lost your sight, I lost my mom, Al lost his body, he’s even indirectly responsible for Hughes. The reason Xerxes died. And I can’t even blame him, because he was _tricked._ ”

Ed grabs the manuscript from the other room, opening it to a diagram of the human body and the Xerxian flow of energy.

“I wanted to be him. I didn’t know about Xerxes, didn’t know that we came from generations of a culture based on _science_ , not god, I barely even registered that no one else had gold eyes like Al and me. I just knew that we could do alchemy, and I knew we were _good at it_. Xerxian technology was nearly more advanced than anything else we’ve seen since.

“The way we write about Xerxes makes it seem like a perfect society, all power placed in the educated, and those who strive to understand the world. But it wasn’t. They were elitist as fuck, anyone who wasn’t naturally intelligent was beaten down, seen as lesser. Worse, they held _slaves_ , and my dad was one. He was tricked because the Dwarf in the Flask promised he’d be powerful through knowledge.”

Roy looks horrified, and Ed feels a kind of vindictiveness rise up, a satisfaction that the words he was speaking horrify people.

“My talent, my knowledge, everything down to my ability to open and escape the gate and bond Al’s soul is soaked in the blood of thousands of Xerxian citizens and slaves. I wanted to be like my dad, Roy, and I had no idea what that meant.”

Roy gives in, squeezing Ed’s hand, flesh and blood, and it seems to have the desired effect when Ed’s shoulders relax, the anger and hatred calming slightly.

“Every time I clapped my hands, I was using a power I only had because my dad committed genocide. Every time I used alchemy, it was a product of the blood of thousands of people, including my little brother. When I found out- when I _realized_ , I was glad I couldn’t do alchemy anymore. I was glad that I couldn’t be like him.”

Roy freezes, suddenly feeling the heat of the desert on his skin, sand in gloves that’s he’s not wearing.

“Roy,” Ed says quietly. He comes back to the present to Ed’s golden eyes looking at him for the first time since he’d started talking. “I know you understand, Roy. That’s why I’m telling you. It’s not- Not exactly the same. It can’t be. You were _in_ it, and I experienced it secondhand, but there’s a point. For a year, I hated the alchemy I used, it felt dirty and wrong and I was glad it was gone. And then I saw Rose, the girl from Liore. My alchemy helped save her. I realized that no matter the blood dripping from what I could do—what you still _can_ do—every time you use it to help people, you pay back a tiny bit of that lifetime debt.”

Ed flips his hand over, tracing the lines and callouses and scars from years of military work. “Your hands, my hands, every hand in the military, we’ll always have blood on them, Roy. Always. We can never pay back the debt we owe. But we can _try_.”

Roy’s mouth is dry, and Ed laughs when he opens his mouth only to find that words wouldn’t form.

“You know what I thought of, when I was trying to understand that? I thought of you. I thought of you standing up to Scar, ready to fry him if he tried to hurt Al or I worse. I thought of you cauterizing your wounds shut, and saving Havoc’s life the same way. I thought of you frying Lust until she truly died to protect Riza and Al. I thought of all the good you’ve done, even with the weight of Ishval on your shoulders. For the first time, when I thought, _I want to be like him,_ I didn’t mean Hohenheim. I meant _you_.”

It’s Roy’s turn to laugh, hoarse and incredulous. “Why does this sound like a confession, Ed?”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Because it is, Bastard. You’ve been the reason I didn’t give up since you lifted me out of that chair. Admittedly it was spite at first,” They both smile in amusement, “But then it was because I genuinely looked up to you.”

“I have to say that I don’t quite believe that,” Roy says, still looking vaguely in shock. Ed raises his eyebrow again.

“Why is that?”

“I’ve always admired you.” He says simply. “You’ve always had a drive; one I couldn’t match. You’re a fire I don’t think could ever go out.”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Dramatic asshole.”

And then he kisses him. It’s short, and gentle, and sweet, and it catches Roy entirely off guard. So off guard, actually, that he falls out of his chair.

Ed laughs again, high and clear, and helps him up. Together they pour over the notes, trying to outdo the other in theoretical knowledge. They spend the night laughing, and if they fall asleep together, that’s their business.

But the story’s not over yet.

The team starts finding more charred bodies, and they start finding circles along with them. The circles send Ed into a panic attack, the first time they find one. It takes two hours to calm him down properly, and he doesn’t speak for the rest of the day besides, “Someone is trying human transmutation. They’ve failed to even open the gate, but I doubt that it’ll stay that way.”

The team scrambles, all hands on deck trying to stop it. Al comes in, given temporary access to all files and information, and Winry comes along with him, because no one could stop her.

And then they lose a hand. Breda goes missing one night on his way home. Then Fuery. Then Falman. Then Al and Winry. No one could stop Ed from working, from trying to find his childhood friend and brother.

Fifteen hours, nine minutes, and eleven seconds later, Edward Elric rushes out of the office, closely pursued by a disgruntled Riza Hawkeye and a very confused Roy Mustang.

“Ed. What’s happening?” Roy shouts, running to keep up with Ed’s near-impossible pace, heading out through the streets of Central.

Ed keeps running, not even out of breath. “I figured out where they are. Hawkeye already called for backup, but it’ll take too long.”

Roy’s mouth sets into a harsh line. He shuts up and keeps running, following Ed through the winding streets. He nearly slams into the younger man when Ed stops in front of a warehouse.

Ed pulls his gun, Riza does the same, and Roy pulls on his glove. He doesn’t need to, but the more he uses it, the less likely their opponent will know about his ability to alchemize without it.

They burst through the door to find their alchemist standing over their friends, completing the circle to bring someone back from the dead. Each of their teammates are placed on the points of a pentacle, tied up and unconscious.

“Michael?” Ed asks. His voice is flat, tired, and more than a little shocked. “Why are you doing this?”

Haman’s eyes are wide, filled with psychopathic glee. His voice is hysterical when he responds, “I am going to do what you couldn’t, Edward. I’m going to return the dead from beyond.”

Ed drops. His automail leg collapses out from underneath him and the gun tumbles from his hands. Riza doesn’t move from where she has the gun trained on Haman. Roy can’t send fire out without potentially hurting the hostages, so he kneels next to Ed.

Then Haman slams his hands on the circle, a shot rings out, and then Roy’s up and slamming into Haman. He starts struggling, trying to force the crazed man out of the circle. Riza, smart as she is, starts dragging their team from the circle, one by one.

The gate starts opening.

The smell of ozone starts crackling through the air, and Ed’s heart starts pounding. He’s struggling with his memories, the overwhelming fear he felt, sitting in his basement as his brother unravels in front of him, but he’s not going to let this happen again. He _can’t_.

For the first time in four years, Edward Elric preforms alchemy.

He slams his hands on the circle just as Hawkeye drags the last sacrifice out, while Roy and Haman are still struggling inside it, but the gate is opening and Ed’s desperate, so he controls it, hijacks the gate that the man opened, and when he opens his eyes, he’s standing in front of Truth. Again.

Truth, nothing but a fuzzy white outline and a left leg, grins at him. Ed hears Roy breathing somewhere behind him, and Haman is sobbing, not far to the left of that.

“The Fullmetal Alchemist returns. I thought I took your alchemy from you. I took your _Gate_. You shouldn’t be here.”

And Ed- Ed _laughs_ , hysterical and insane and if anyone but the four of them had heard it, he’s sure he’d be locked up before he could blink. Roy moves, stands behind him, a warm presence at his back.

“I’ve done plenty of things I shouldn’t, Truth.”

If anything, the grin widens, and Truth looks amused.

“You’ve grown, little alchemist, as has your friend.”

“It’s been several years, Truth, and as humans that is to be expected.” Roy snaps, fear and anger almost hidden behind the jab.

“What will you sacrifice this time, Edward? The first time it was your brother, then your limbs, then your ability to find me. What will you give me now that you’ve broken my rules? Will you give another limb? Will you give _him_?” Truth’s voice is sharp, like ice needling his skin, gesturing to Roy.

Roy goes to protest, but Ed places a hand on his arm, quieting him.

“What are you planning to do with that one?” Ed asks, jerking a thumb towards Haman. The man is still on the floor, sobbing, pleading, but they’d ignored him.

“He committed the taboo, and he says he’d rather die than return. I figure I’ll grant that wish.” Truth says. It’s a statement both Ed and Roy expected. They know too well the cruelty of Truth.

Ed lowers his eyes, and sighs. “What will it take for you to give me my alchemy?”

Truth unfurls from its sitting position, standing exactly in front of Ed. “What are you willing to give?”

“I won’t give you Roy. You can’t take him, or anything _from_ him.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I know.”

Truth cocks its head, and merely smiles. “You brought me a man willing to create a philosopher’s stone to circumvent my rules. You made sure those souls would return to where they belong upon their deaths, rather than being trapped in a stone forever. You continue to follow my rules, even after I took everything from you.”

Roy’s hand tightens on Ed’s shoulder, and Ed can’t help but agree with the anxiety he knows is twisting through Roy’s head.

“I’ll consider your toll paid. _This time_.”

Ed whirls around, breaking Roy’s hold on him, and finds Haman being dragged through the Gate. He doesn’t try to stop it, he knows he can’t.

The doors shut, closing off his screams.

“As a gift, for keeping those Homunculi from breaking my rules as well, I’ll give you a couple of secrets.” Truth continues smiling as Ed is dragged through as well, as he and Roy are deconstructed and reconstructed inside the building once more.

It’s destroyed, but all the people Haman had tried to kill, to _use_ , were alive. Hawkeye, and Al, the rest of the team were all alive. Groggy, terrified, but alive.

A grin that Ed knows could rival Truth’s spreads over his face, and he _claps_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, comments fuel my writing, so if you want more, leave one down below. I respond to all.
> 
> If you want to ask about anything or just talk about stuff I wrote my tumblr is @/ biblio-bitch
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope everyone is staying safe,  
> lace


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